


dirty pictures imply a need for cleaning up if you know what I mean

by 2ndActivatorOfCaspases



Category: Long Exposure (Webcomic)
Genre: "You got your smut in my fluff!" "You got your fluff in my smut!", (look they've got a lot of energy ok??), 2 great tastes that taste great together, Dick Pics, Intercrural Sex, Kind of fluffy kind of smutty, M/M, Oral Sex, Voyeurism, jerking off, which also happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-23 14:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9661571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2ndActivatorOfCaspases/pseuds/2ndActivatorOfCaspases
Summary: Mitch sends a dick pic. Jonas tries being seductive and worries he comes across as skeevy. This is followed by breaking and entering.





	1. I: Unsolicited

Right off the bat, Jonas notices that the photograph is blurry, the lighting terrible, and honestly the background is way too cluttered and creates a distracting composition.

It’s also a dick pic. 

He slams his phone down onto his desk, panic endorphins racing through his system. He whirls around to look at whoever’s sitting behind him in Physics today and gage whether he can just apologize or if he’s going to have to run away to Santa Fe with nothing but a skateboard and his overwhelming shame.

Turns out to be Xochi Guzman. She’s looking down at her notebook and doodling some very intricate marble columns. Her earbuds are plugged in, wires strategically hidden in her wavy black hair. Her eyes narrow in warning when she catches Jonas eying her, and he quickly turns back around. 

His heart’s still beating a mile a minute, but glancing around, it’s pretty safe to assume that no one else happened to be looking at Jonas’ phone when the message arrived.

This is why you don’t look at your phone in class, he thinks dimly, because the universe will punish you by flinging a cock at you. A really nice cock, to be fair, a cock you’ve been wondering about and hoping to encounter in an environment that is neither physics class nor in a blurry, badly-done photo.

It’s a good thing to focus on the bad composition, actually. It keeps Jonas’ mind from straying to the memory of exactly how hard that cock felt when he rubbed up on it while making out with Mitch, the way Mitch gave a soft, strangled grunt when Jonas awkwardly palmed at it through their clothes, and how badly Jonas wanted to have it inside him--

Badly composed photo, badly composed photo, god that bedsheet was so filthy and there did not need to be a pair of weights that close by because the lens kept trying to focus on them instead of on Mitch’s cock.

Mitch. 

That _jerk._

Jonas sneaks a look at him. In the back of the class, Mitch is idly picking under his nails with a pencil, feet crossed on top of his desk with the casual air of _that jerk_ who definitely is up to some shit like sending dick pics. He catches Jonas’ eye, gives a small eyebrow raise, and goes back to picking under his nails.

It is, unfortunately for Jonas, kind of sexy. 

He hates himself for it and tucks his phone close to his body so he can text without worrying about scandalizing poor Xochi Guzman who is just trying to get some art done on this fine Tuesday. He types a message out in a notepad app and copy-pastes it into Mitch’s window as fast as he can without looking at the picture for longer than absolutely necessary.

_CoolButRude: So now I literally can’t text you until there is no one around because there is a giant dick on my screen, so thanks for that. -_-_

There. Done. 

His phone buzzes, and after a moment, buzzes again. And again. Jonas flips off the buzzer so it’ll stop sounding like there’s a vibrator in his desk. 

Jonas glances back at Mitch. Yeah, they’re from him alright. He’s typing one-handed, the other lazily spinning the pencil. He keeps typing, expression bored and neutral. Jonas’ phone has quit buzzing, but it still flashes a small blue light whenever a message arrives, and it currently looks like there’s a secret rave taking place inside his desk. Jonas shuffles some papers over it to try to hide it, which does okay until the end of class. 

Jonas waits until everyone who sits behind him has filed out to sneak a peek at his phone. There are no further pics, just a long string of texts. The relief disappears when he reads them.

_McFckOff: ;)_

_McFckOff: glad u like my giant dick_

_McFckOff: its cos of u, spots. u know that rite??_

_McFckOff: u make me so fuckn hard_

This is not okay to read in Physics. Not even a little bit. The bell rings and everyone starts getting up, ready to leave, but Jonas’ eyes are fixed on his phone screen because sweet god almighty this is actually a thing that is occurring, this is a thing Mitch typed while looking bored in Physics class.

_McFckOff: was thinkin of u last night_

_McFckOff: how u sat on me when we kissed and how good u felt_

_McFckOff: how u rubbed up on me and told me u wanted me in u_

_McFckOff: u fucked me over so bad w that spots_

_McFckOff: i cant stop thinkin abt how bad I wanna fuk u now_

_McFckOff: ill make it so good for u spots_

_McFckOff: ill kiss u all over, fuck u hard n fast or slow n gntle_

_McFckOff: let u ride my dick however u want basicly_

_McFckOff: u tell me when and ill be ready for u_

_McFckOff: as th pic shows ;) ;)_

“This is terrible,” Jonas protests.

“Mr. Wagner?” 

Jonas makes a small, surprised yelp. The TA is cleaning up. The class is empty aside from him: that guy, sitting by himself and talking at his phone.

The teacher tilts her head, telegraphing mild concern. “You’ll be late to your next class.” 

“Yes, Miss Maryam!” He shoves his physics notebook and binder into his backpack and grabs his phone off his desk. “Thanks, Miss Maryam!” 

This is probably the first time Jonas is grateful for the large amount of typos endemic to Mitch’s texts, because they are currently the only thing he can focus on to avoid getting a hard-on in school. None of this was okay, on any level. 

He’s still really glad it happened, though.

==

“What are you supposed to do with a dick pic?”

The table freezes and Jonas realizes he has made a terrible mistake.

“You report it to the authorities, show it to their parents, and _ruin their lives,_ ” Maddy says darkly.

Sydney is giving her brother a _look_ and Jonas coughs. “Jonas, don’t send a dick pic unless the other person says it’s okay.” 

“I’m not SENDING a dick pic--” 

“Did you _get_ sent a dick pic?!” Lewis squawks. 

“—it’s an intellectual question,” Jonas finishes, avoiding eye contact with Lewis. “A hypothetical, intellectual question. Which was way weirder than I meant for it to be, obviously.” 

Lewis calms down and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Oh. An intellectual question.” He nods, comfortable now in the land of the hypothetical. “It’s probably fine if everyone said it’s fine. I don’t know what people are supposed to DO with it – I mean, I can guess, but I don’t know if I should say--” 

Maddy crosses her arms over her chest defensively, cheeks burning red. “Pornographic texts lead to criminal and morally dubious activities, and I really don’t think I’m comfortable with this line of discussion.”

“We’ll stop, then,” Jonas says quickly. “Sorry.” 

Sydney is still giving him a look, and he’s stopped being able to make eye contact with her, too. Just Jonas and the lunchroom floor now, best friends forever.

After a moment, Sydney finally says, “I’d make fun of it, probably. Tell ‘em their photography skills need work.”

Jonas changes the subject.

\--

Mitch texts him after school. 

_McFckOff: hey cutie_

_McFckOff: u busy_

_McFckOff: probly busy bein CUTE as fuckk_

_McFckOff: yea thats rite ur cute as fuck gonna kiss the cute rite off u_

_McFckOff: that’s a lie ur always cute lmfao_

_McFckOff: liked the pic???_

_McFckOff: could take sum more for u……_

Jonas snorts and stops drying dishes to type back.

_CoolButRude: Your lighting was bad, the composition was bad, and your focus was off._

_McFckOff::(_

Something twinges in Jonas’ chest, and he has a moment of sympathy.

_CoolButRude: Your subject was good, though._

_McFckOff:?_

_CoolButRude: The subject was you._

_CoolButRude: ….And your dick._

_McFckOff: sjdssjkhahahaha joeeeeeey yah!!!!! u thnk so??_

_McFckOff: thank u spots im glad u enjoyd_

He’s going to do it. Here he goes. Psyching himself up to seduce Mitch Mueller, which should technically be as easy as pie, although pie is not actually that easy to make because you have to try to not touch the dough so it doesn’t get hard and that’s literally the exact opposite of how he feels about Mitch but Jesus Christ he’s already typed and sent it.

_CoolButRude: You should let me take a better picture of your dick._

Jonas groans and hunches over the kitchen counter, faceplanting into his hands. There were probably _much_ better ways to word that but no, here we are, Jonas “Skeevy Photographer” Wagner. And yet, even with Mitch’s mediocre phone camera, Jonas is pretty sure he can take a better photograph of Mitch’s hard-on. And then put it in his mouth. The hard-on, not the photograph. That would be dumb and require actually printing the photograph and even just the thought of that makes circus music start playing in Jonas’ head. 

Mitch takes for-freaking-ever to respond. Jonas goes back to washing dishes, glancing nervously down at his phone every so often until it finally buzzes again. He lunges for it, suds splashing everywhere.

_McFckOff: when_

Jonas almost drops the phone in the sink. He wipes one hand dry on his shirt and texts back. 

_CoolButRude: When’re you free?_

_McFckOff: Im liek America bb I am free as a fuckn eagle_

Something is seriously wrong with him that he finds Mitch Mueller cute. And sexy? Either way, here it is, this is going to happen. This is going to happen and it either ends with amazing hot sex or it ends with Mitch and Jonas being arrested and sent to gay military school and the military school for useless bisexuals who don’t know how to seduce their boyfriends. Respectively. 

_CoolButRude: We need a place. >.>_

_McFckOff: i gotta place dont u worry were doin this_

_McFckOff: we;re makin this hapn_

_McFckOff: meet me outside skool gym 9 pm_

That sounds awful. That sounds like it only leads to bad things and military school.

This is a really terrible idea and Jonas is going to do it.

==

It is probably too cold to have met outside. 

Mitch is standing behind the gym next to the dumpsters, leaning against the wall. In a testament to how cold it is, he’s wearing actual sleeves. A cigarette dangles in his mouth, and he smiles around it as Jonas approaches. “Lookin’ good, babe.”

Jonas waves, mildly dismayed that Mitch is going to taste like an ashtray. “Hey.” 

Mitch’s smile gets downright ridiculous and Jonas can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks. Yeah. Definitely crushing on Mitch Mueller.

Jonas can’t keep eye contact then at the risk of flowers blooming and a choir of metal angels ascending from rock heaven and shredding. Instead, he quietly snakes an arm around Mitch’s waist and looks down at their jeans. 

Mitch rumbles like some giant housecat or something, a weird happy noise. He flicks the cigarette away and leans down to cup Jonas’ face and tilt it up for a kiss.

Mitch tastes like smoke, but it’s nowhere near as bad as Jonas might wish it was. In fact, Jonas’ brain has started rewiring to find the flavor and smell comforting, arousing, almost as nice as the actual soft press of Mitch’s tongue between his lips, coaxing his mouth open. 

The kiss deepens, and somewhere along the way, Jonas has ended up pressed against the wall, Mitch having to bend down for the height difference. He ends the kiss with a small, firm press of his teeth to Jonas’ lower lip. Not quite a bite, but. The threat of it. 

Something in Jonas’ stomach twists and grows warm.

“Lookin’ real good,” Mitch murmurs, and drops a small peck on Jonas’ forehead. “So you ready to break into the gym?” 

The answer to that is no.

The look on Jonas’ face must be hilarious because Mitch doubles over guffawing, clutching at his stomach. “Ohhhhh man, your face though.”

“That wasn’t really funny,” Jonas protests.

Mitch straightens up and the laughter is gone. “You’re right,” he says solemnly. “Breaking and entering is serious business.”

Oh god they really are going to get sent to military school.

“Why are we breaking into the gym!?” Jonas’ voice cracks in the middle and he’s too worried to actually feel self-conscious about it.

Mitch tilts his head. “So you can take sexy pictures of me in the locker room, like you said. C’mon, Spots, I’m startin’a worry I kissed your brains out or something. This was your idea.”

“It wasn’t, it really wasn’t,” Jonas protests. “Oh man, we’re going to get caught.” 

“Nah, I’ll jimmy the breaker box, no one will ever know we were here.” Mitch pulls out something from his pocket and—yep, that’s a knife, that’s definitely a knife of the sort used for stabbing, Jonas is _not_ thinking about that.

He looks up at Mitch’s face, and it stops him. There’s an awkward vulnerability there, and it makes Jonas’ heart twist.

He takes a step forward and puts his hand on Mitch’s, focusing on the rough feel off Mitch’s torn knuckles and not on the fact that there’s a switchblade there. “I trust you,” he says firmly.

Mitch’s lips quirk in a small, sad smile. “About breaking into the gym, right?” 

Not even a little, but here we are, this is the hill he’s going to die on. Jonas takes a deep breath. “Let’s break into the gym.”

Mitch breaks into a broad, toothy grin. He takes Jonas’ hand with his free hand and starts leading him to the breaker box. “Attaboy.”


	2. II: Swipe Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, happy American Presidents day, here is 3000+ words of smut.

“Hey.” This is probably a weird thing to bring up while your boyfriend is trying to pry open a breaker box with only a pocket knife and some determination, but damned if Jonas isn’t going for it. “Uh. You know I’m trying to seduce you, right, Mitch?” 

Mitch snorts a laugh. “Oh, no shit, Joey?”

Jonas rolls his eyes. “Seriously, I want to make sure you know going into this – I’m going to attempt sex with you.”

Mitch doesn’t even look up this time. “Yeah, yeah, we’re gonna make our dicks kiss. ‘s fine, Spots.”

The breaker door swings open with a small whine of protest. Jonas is pretty sure that this is going to end with an alarm blaring, but no. Just the quiet click of Mitch flipping the switch off and on again.

“The shitty security system they got won’t actually turn on again,” Mitch explains. “They’ll call it a power surge, see that no one stole nothing, and pretend it didn’t happen.”

Jonas isn’t sure he believes it, but tries to keep the doubt off his face. “Mmhm. Mmhm.”

Mitch grins. “Promise. I’ve done it before.”

There is not a lot Jonas can say to that. He scans the inside of his brain for something, anything in response. A compliment? “You’re pretty good at breaking and entering.”

Smooth, Wagner, smooth.

“Yeah, well.” Mitch stands and heads toward the door. “You learn some shit in juvie.” Jonas isn’t really sure what Mitch is going to do next and braces himself, but it turns out he just calmly punches some numbers into the keypad keeping the door locked. It chimes open with a beep.

Mitch glances back at Jonas, smirking triumphantly, “Just the last four of the school phone—hey!”

Jonas isn’t sure what he’s doing, but apparently it’s holding Mitch’s hand. Not even the normal way people hold hands. He’s clutching it between both of his like it’s a small animal he’s caught. Mitch’s fingers longer than Jonas’ own, the scabbed and scarred up knuckles. He can feel his cheeks burning and the low pink glow of his lights threatening to burst out.

“Jonas?” And Mitch’s voice is so soft, so gentle that it stabs into Jonas like a dagger, actually physically hurts him to think that this Mitch (Mitch with his stupid scarred up hands, Mitch with his stupid gentle voice, Mitch with the way he looks at Jonas like he’s the best and brightest thing in the world) has had to carry so much his whole life.

Jonas brings Mitch’s hand up to his face and nuzzles it. “I’m glad we’re breaking into the gym.”

Mitch strokes the side of Jonas’ face with his knuckles. “Shit, Spots. Same.” 

\--

Mitch is pretty good at leading the way in the dark, but even then the pink light isn’t exactly hurting. It’s like a mediocre flashlight – useless for getting through the woods, but great for aesthetics.

“The locker room?” Jonas asks nervously.

“We can’t bone down in the middle of the basketball court, Joey.” Mitch pauses in the middle of shrugging his hoodie off. “Or can we…?”

“Nope, nope, nope. Boy’s locker room is fine!” The pink lights have grown a little brighter and Jonas is definitely ignoring that.

Mitch flicks on one of the switches for the locker room, and the fluorescent lights overhead hum on. This is it, Jonas thinks. This is where I’m going to lose my virginity, because I am a trash can dating another, different trash can. The other trash can is peeling his shirt off and oh god, his muscles. 

“Heck,” Jonas says weakly. His boyfriend is hot.

Mitch fishes something out of his pocket and tosses it at Jonas. Jonas almost misses it, and it’s a good thing he doesn’t, because it’s Mitch’s phone. The screen is already messed up enough. It might not survive another fall. 

“So. Gonna shoot me like one of your French girls?” Mitch grins, biting down on his tongue. He sits down on the long bench in the narrow hallway, straddling it and leaning back on his elbows. He has to know the exact effect he has on Jonas; that grin is entirely too predatory. “What does a guy have to do to get his dick photographed?” 

Jonas barks out a nervous laugh and it echoes way too loudly in the empty locker room. “Hahaha, well, I guess we have t- to get you hard, first!” He sounds way too damn cheerful and peppy about this. There better not be anyone in here because Jonas will die if he finds out anyone has heard him saying any of this.

Mitch laughs, ugly and a little shaky. “You got me halfway there already.” He undoes the button on his fly and unzips. “This is stuff I’ve wanted for a while now.” He starts to shove his jeans off. 

“Wait wait!” Jonas holds his hands up.

Mitch freezes, thumbs inside the waistband. 

“I—“ Jonas clears his throat. “L-leave your jeans on.” He fiddles with his phone like he’s messing with the camera settings instead of losing his mind. “I’ve got an idea for the, the composition.” 

The camera comes to life. On screen, Mitch slowly grins again. “If you say so.” 

Jonas motions to the bench. “Okay. Sit back like you were, on your elbows.”

“Bossy.” Mitch does what he says, though, one leg on either side of the bench. There’s a visible bulge in the striped boxers that peek through the open fly, and his fingers skirt over it. “You want me to take it out?”

Jonas looks at him. “Actually, I have an idea – can I?” 

Mitch visibly swallows. His voice is low. “Be my guest.” 

Jonas tries to ignore the way Mitch’s breath hitches when Jonas touches him. Detached artist, he thinks to himself as he pulls the waistband of Mitch’s boxers down just past the head of his cock and leaves it there. 

Detached artist voice: calm and not turned on at all. “There.” Jonas takes Mitch’s hand and guides it, positions the fingers to wrap around the part of Mitch’s erection that’s still clothed, makes sure some fingers are dipping into his open jeans. “We’ve made it, uh. Made it look _inviting_.” He still can’t make eye contact with Mitch. 

Mitch’s fingers flex slightly. “Good. Welcome to my dick, population: you.”

That doesn’t even… no. Ignore it, Jonas thinks. Detached artist. Jonas kneels, holding the camera like a shield. “Tilt your head – we’re not going to get your face in the shot, but we want, uh, we want the shadow--”

There. The shot is perfect, actually, composed well. It even makes up for the harsh fluorescent lighting in the background; with some color filters, it’ll look really artistic, actually. Mitch looks like he’s just some guy jerking off after basketball practice…which is actually also hot as hell, and Jonas is truly done for now.

“Okay!” Jonas’ voice is hoarse and he tries to ignore it. “We’re gonna do another one.” He reaches up and moves Mitch’s hand away from his dick, tugs at his underwear. “Lift up your hips?” 

Mitch complies, and Jonas tugs down the jeans and boxers until they’re halfway down Mitch’s thighs. It’s not quite right. Jonas reaches out and wraps his hand around Mitch’s cock.

Mitch inhales audibly.

“Lean back more.” Jonas is definitely hard too by now, because detached artistry is for people who don’t have a really nice cock in their hand. A small bead of precome is dripping down the tip, and without thinking twice Jonas swipes it away with his thumb.

“Fuck,” Mitch hisses, and almost destroys Jonas’ artistic resolve.

“Sorry, sorry!” He backs off and grabs the phone. “Ok. Grab- grab the base?”

Mitch is giving him that wolf staring down a baby lamb look. “Like this?”

“Yeah.” The phone camera clicks. “You’re doing really great—oh god.”

Because Mitch pumps his cock, languid and lazy, long fingers stroking the underside. There’s an intensity in his eyes that’s killing Jonas, this _focus_ that used to fill him with fear and maybe still sort of does? It’s different when you know you mess them up so much, admittedly. It’s different when the wolf loves you. 

“I’m doing good?” Mitch asks, voice strained and husky.

Jonas looks down at the phone, and after a moment, back up at Mitch. “Yeah. I kind of like everything about it.”

Mitch breaks into a grin, toothy and unselfconscious. “Good. ‘cause I like everything about you.”

“Okay, fine,” Jonas says, because this is stupid, and he’s stupid, and Mitch is stupid. Jonas puts the camera aside and steps toward him, kneels up on the bench and crawls up Mitch’s body.

“Am I done being your French girl?” Mitch mumbles against Jonas’ mouth. His cock bumps against Jonas’ stomach, and oh man, here it is, sex or military school time. Might as well be naked, Jonas thinks, leaning back to pull off his sweater and start unbuttoning his shirt. He should’ve dressed for sex, he realizes grimly. Mitch takes the moment to finish kicking off his jeans and boxers, then turns back to help Jonas remove his. 

“You’re a gentleman,” Jonas laughs.

That intensity again, and the smirk from Mitch is electric. “That’s me, Spots. I’ll even let you come first.” He pulls Jonas down onto him, spreading Jonas’ legs so that he straddles Mitch’s crotch. Their erections line up just right, and Jonas hisses sharp and pathetic.

Mitch’s rough hands have a firm grip on his hips, and they coax Jonas into rocking against Mitch. And Jonas doesn’t mean to make that desperate keening noise, but he does, and Mitch’s laugh is a little mean, a little triumphant. The pleasure is a deep, slow burn that starts building the faster Mitch moves Jonas’ hips, and Jonas clutches at Mitch’s shoulders like he’s about to fall off a cliff.

“If we get caught,” Jonas says, breathless and a little mindless, “my life is probably going to be ruined and I’ll be a criminal.”

Mitch’s head is thrown back, a stupid grin on his face. “Nah, you’ll just be a perv.” He thrusts his hips up, grinding _hard_ against Jonas, and it feels so good that it’s impossible for Jonas not to arch into it with a pained whine. 

Mitch loves it, rumbles low in his throat. “Lookatchu, Joey, all turned on.” In a smooth motion, he sits up, changing the angle and suddenly he’s _right_ in Jonas’ face, big teeth bared in a grin. “You’re good for my ego, babe.” 

Jonas laughs against Mitch’s mouth because this should not be turning him on but here he is, hard and naked in the boy’s locker room with Mitch Mueller calling him babe, Mitch Mueller’s strong hands on his ass, gripping and massaging the muscle there, Mitch Mueller sloppily kissing him, shoving his tongue into Jonas’ mouth. Half of this shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, starting with Mitch who can’t shut up unless he’s kissing Jonas.

Their teeth crash together painfully, and Mitch draws back, raining a barrage of kisses across Jonas’ face, his neck, his shoulders. “God. You’re so fuckin’ hot.” He drags his tongue across the slight dip where Jonas’ collarbones meet. “Got me all worked up.” 

Mitch’s fingers dip inside the cleft of Jonas’ ass, questing, and Jonas tenses without meaning to, goes still and rigid.

They’re gone almost immediately. 

Mitch is looking at Jonas’ arms contemplatively, and drops a small kiss on the inside of each. “We don’t gotta do that right now.”

Jonas feels his face growing hot in embarrassment. “No, it’s fine, we--”

Mitch shakes his head and licks a center down the center of Jonas’ soft chest, making Jonas interrupt himself with a small groan. “Another time, Joey. Maybe when I’m fuckin’ you in a backseat somewhere or something.” He smiles up at Jonas, and oh god, oh no, it’s not even registering as gross anymore. It’s sweet and lovestruck and sappy as hell and Jonas loves him so much. 

He sighs and lets his forehead rest against Mitch’s. “I really wanted to get fucked tonight, you know.” 

Mitch kisses him on the nose. Christ almighty how dare this jerk be gentle right now. Jonas can’t even _say_ anything about it, he’s so stunned. “It’s fine, Spots. Turn around for me?”

Strong arms wrap around him, and Mitch is pulling him back, settling Jonas on his lap. His hard cock rubs on Jonas’ backside, and he makes an appreciative grunt when Jonas tentatively wiggles back. 

“Here, hang on.” Mitch nuzzles Jonas’ neck and leans in, and Jonas realizes with a twist in his guts that what Mitch is doing is getting a vantage point. He’s looking down at where Jonas’ cock curves up, hard and flushed, a contrast to the soft, pale brown stomach. 

Mitch just nuzzles in further, opens his mouth and sucks where Jonas’ shoulder meets his neck. It hurts but it feels good at the same time, a dull pain that grows sharper with the hard edges of Mitch’s teeth, and Jonas gasps and takes a few slow, shaking breaths. 

Mitch lets go and kisses the spot that is most definitely going to blossom into a bruise the size of Milwaukee. “I like this. Lets me see what I’m doing.” His fingers curl around Jonas’ cock and give it a few lazy tugs.

Jonas whines, and it’s awful because he doesn’t mean to make that desperate, keening noise, that noise that make Mitch mumble _jesus fuck joey you’re so hot so fucking hot Jonas_ but not speed up the slow, teasing rhythm he’s using. 

With a distressed groan, Jonas jerks up into Mitch’s fist, tries to get him to move faster. Mitch’s hard-on is digging into his back, but he doesn’t seem in any particular hurry to take care of that. Instead, he scrapes his teeth over Jonas’ skin, chewing gently. 

“Fuckin’ A, Joey,” Mitch breathes. “Look at you. Look at how fucking hot you are.” He straight up licks Jonas, one long stroke of his tongue up Jonas’ neck and to his jawbone. “You’re killin’ me.”

Jonas gasps and arches his back. It’s too much, too fast, and every one of his nerves is sparking hard, the warmth and pressure building and rising. 

Mitch bites him again.

That’s what does it in the end, the already sore spot bursting with new pain, combined with Mitch’s shorter swipes focusing on the aching, over-sensitized head of Jonas’ cock. Jonas comes, biting down on his lower lip to keep himself from crying out, squeezing his eyes shut so hard he sees stars.

Mitch pumps him through it, murmuring encouragement ( _there you go babe, that’s right joey, come for me_ ) until Jonas flinches. “S-stop, Mitch, it hurts.”

Mitch nods against Jonas’ neck and lets go. “See? Told you I’d let you come first.” He grins toothily. 

Jonas snorts and shoves Mitch’s shoulder, not hard enough to do much more than make him laugh. “A true gentleman.”

Mitch makes a satisfied noise and rolls his hips. His cock rubs against Jonas’ backside. “Get on your hands and knees for me, yeah, Spots?” 

And that snaps Joey out of the daze he was in, even as he obeys. He looks over his shoulder at Mitch and if this wasn’t already a complicated mixture of arousing and embarrassing, Mitch is calmly slicking up his cock with Jonas’ come. 

He catches Jonas watching and winks so sleazily that Jonas almost wishes he wasn’t attracted to Mitch. “C’mon.” Mitch leans forward and kisses between Jonas’ shoulderblades. The head of his cock nudges at the juncture of Jonas’ thighs. “Let me in?” 

Oh.

Jonas adjusts, spreads his legs just a bit so Mitch can slide in. The strange sensation of Mitch’s cock, thick and hard, pushing through his thighs.

Mitch grunts in satisfaction before giving a test thrust. “Fuck.” It must feel good, he does it again. Jonas’ come is slightly sticky but gives enough slickness for Mitch’s thrusts to go smoothly. After a moment, it occurs to Mitch to press his thighs just a bit tighter. 

And it makes Mitch snarl, actually, jerk his hips forward and drape over Jonas, panting.

“Sorry, sorry--!” Jonas starts.

Mitch cuts Jonas off by biting the back of his neck. Holy hell. That should not feel as good as it does, should not arc into Jonas’ brain and hit something base and primal, but here he is, going still and quiet after Mitch bit him. 

Mitch licks at the place he just bit and laughs shakily. “No, it’s fine, I’m just. Fuck.” He drags his mouth over Jonas’ spine in a sloppy kiss. “I’m trying not to be a dick, Joey, but you feel so good, feel so tight I’m gonna come in like five seconds.” 

“Is that bad?” Jonas asks hesitantly. 

Mitch scrapes his teeth over Jonas’ shoulder. “Spots, let a guy be a fuckin’ gentleman.” 

“I don’t want a gentleman. I want you.” Jonas takes a breath and, feeling brave, rocks back against Mitch. 

Mitch’s breath hitches, and with a snarl he grips Jonas’ hips and thrusts hard, then again, and again. The obscene sound of Jonas getting thigh-fucked echoes in the empty room for a few brief moments, punctuated by Mitch’s grunts as he gets closer. 

Mitch’s fingers might leave bruises, Jonas thinks feverishly. Mitch presses his face to Jonas’ back when he comes, groaning low in his throat like he’s in pain.

There’s going to be so many bruises, Jonas thinks, and then Mitch is grabbing him by the chin and turning his head for a kiss.

It’s still messy, the way deep Mitch kisses are, and Jonas doesn’t really mind. He feels languid and lazy, satisfied that the narrow bench is long enough that Mitch can lay him down on it and prop himself up over Jonas and kiss him.

“Good?” Mitch asks.

Jonas nods. “Really – yeah, wow. Thank you.”

And Mitch breaks into a grin, bright like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. “You’re so fuckin’ cute.” He kisses the tip of Jonas’ nose. “I fuckin’ love you.” 

Jonas’ heart twists. “Shut up. I love you, too.”

Mitch’s smile is so damn big that Jonas can see his gums. Jonas can’t handle it, has to look down and away and.

Oh no.

Oh no.

“Oh my god, why is there so much semen.” Jonas groans and palms his face. “How did this _happen._ ”

Mitch sits up and solemnly puts a hand on Jonas’ stomach. “We had sex.” 

Jonas rolls his eyes and sits up. “We’re going to have to clean up before we leave, otherwise the 6 AM crowd is going to come in here and – just.” He can’t even finish that sentence, can’t finish that thought.

“You wanna take a shower?” 

Jonas stops cold. He’s not sure if Mitch is kidding or not. After a pause, he says as much. 

“We already broke in. Gotta get clean, Joey.” Mitch stands up and stretches, his joints popping one right after the other. Jonas’ knees almost buckle. Mitch is tall and lean-muscled, completely naked, and messy as hell. He walks past Jonas, winks sleazily, and just _saunters_ into the showers, and Jonas could swear he’s shaking his skinny ass on purpose.

Well, it works. Jonas follows him into the showers.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Well. Here we are, you and I. Enjoy? Links and comments greatly appreciated.
> 
> Jonas' screenname is a reference to the 80s TMNT cartoon opening.


End file.
